  Than to be in San Diego today, where the weather is approaching balmy for once and I have worn short-sleeves for the first time this year.
Tis an absolutely beautiful day, and if I weren't so damn tired I'd be out running around in it. As it is, I'm keeping watch over the library from my perch in the reading room, pretending to do cite-checking but not really getting anything done yet. I have errands to run later, and for once they don't seem like a bad idea because it's so nice out.
Have I belabored that point yet? Today in ConLaw, our professor read a quote from someone criticizing part of a Supreme Court decision (Planned Parenthood v. Casey, in case you care) as having all the weight of a "drunken late-night declaration of affection" (paraphrased because the wording escapes me). The aptness of this analogy aside - and I tend to think it's humorous but wrong - it does make one reflect on how strangely true it is in real life. As the night goes on, the conversation deepens or the alcohol takes its full effect, and people are likely to say whatever they can to avoid going home alone.
Then, when the sun is shining again, you realize that what you said last night was a pretty far cry from reality. I don't think I'm just writing from personal experience, as it is obvious that at least myself and Nagel (the quotation author) can confirm this social phenomena, but as far as bad moves go it seems to be the least detrimental to personal health.
Sure it can be embarassing (and if it leads to physical encounters, you have a whole new complication), but most people know that the "I love you man" speech is just a product of lowered inhibitions and a late night of revelry. Because of that, it's not sad or weird, but rather sort of cute when it happens. That was a random tangent. Here's something for Raf: 
